I’ve always been a firm believer in the double text.
Anyone who messages me knows I like writing paragraphs and I love sending them one-after-the-other so the person I’m talking to is forced to read an entire essay before they can figure out exactly what I’m going on about. In essence: I text the way I write. I like to think I also live the way I write: no secrets, no shame, just a bunch of words strung together and bleeding on the page.
I’ve never been good at playing mind games. I can remember a certain night in first year when I came running home after a party-burning up with the idea that the guy I’d just danced with would call me or something like that. He didn’t, and I was told that I was too eager, too available and that I needed to learn the art of “Mind-fucking”.
I never mastered the art, nor did I particularly want to. There’s something incredible about being so raw. Maybe I’m a glorified thrill-chaser, or just a girl on a constant search for a good story to tell. All I know is that when I strip myself down, relinquish control and let my pulse beat out my emotions, I feel wholly human.
The best feeling in the world is when you’re dancing to the sound of an unexpected cello, your heart makes an indent in your rib cage and you finally feel complete with humanity. That’s how it feels to be recklessly blatant.
I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, Kiss me harder, and You’re a good person, and, You brighten my day. I live my life as straight-forward as possible.
Because one day, I might get hit by a bus.
Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands.
But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate.
And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.
We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.
We never know when the bus is coming.”
—Rachel C. Lewis, Tell The People You Love That You Love Them
I know I may be Too Much, I know transparency scares a lot of people, I know sometimes I burn too hot to handle. I know that if I don’t place stones around my heart I run the risk of wearing it out.
But I also know that you can’t truly win people over by mind-fucking them- because humans prefer being nakedly adored than secretly manipulated.
I don’t think I’ll ever stop feeling.
I don’t think I’ll ever stop brazenly caring.
I don’t think I’ll ever stop double-texting.